


The Fairer Sex

by merelydovely



Series: Les Mis Women Week 2017 [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, Casual Sex, F/F, Multi, Open Relationships, Pining, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 16:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11604912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelydovely/pseuds/merelydovely
Summary: Cosette and Éponine learn that the entirety of the ABC Society is on Musichetta's exception list. Given Cosette's adventurous spirit, what happens next is entirely predictable – but that doesn't mean Éponine is even remotely prepared for the emotional fallout of an unexpected chance to have sex with her crush.





	The Fairer Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the ["WE TALKED ABOUT THIS" prompt](http://probably-pride-related.tumblr.com/post/162287312525/les-mis-wlwwomens-week-psa) of [Les Mis Women/WLW Week](https://persephonah.tumblr.com/post/162241826110/is-your-gay-ass-starved-of-the-much-needed-wlw) 2017.

Éponine walked back into her living room, fresh popcorn in hand, just in time to see a very sleepy, blanket-bundled Cosette leaning up to kiss Musichetta on the lips.

“Cosette!” she barked.

Cosette startled, jerking away. Blinking rapidly, she said, “Sorry, ugh, I don’t know what came over me.” Then, to Musichetta, “No disrespect to your boyfriends. You are just… really,  _really_ pretty.” She smiled, dopey, sheepish, artless.

Apparently unbothered, Musichetta kissed Cosette on the forehead, ruffling her hair.

Éponine glowered. Why did Cosette never kiss  _Éponine_  in that sleepy, adorable way? (…Or at all?) Why would she instead direct her attentions to a woman who, while indeed beautiful, was in a committed relationship with not one but  _two_  other men?

“Actually, we talked about this,” Musichetta was saying. “Not, like, this scenario specifically, but about how open we wanted our relationship to be. It was after Bahorel was explaining how he does things with Felicity, and Enjolras had that whole rant on state-sanctioned emphasis on monogamy...”

Éponine shook off her internal monologue. “I remember,” she said, settling into the couch on Musichetta’s other side. On the screen, Netflix was asking if they were still watching. “A few weeks ago, right? Courfeyrac went off about how people see polyamory as  _either_  monogamy times two,  _or_  a complete free-for-all, Jehan wrote all that vocabulary on the whiteboard?”

“Constellation!” interjected Cosette, sounding slightly more awake now. “That was the collective noun, for, like, the whole relationship network or whatever. I liked that one.”

“You and Joly both,” said Musichetta, grinning. “What is it with you guys and everything even tangentially related to space?”

“Space is  _cool_ ,” said Cosette petulantly. She wrapped herself more tightly in her blanket, which was festooned with stars. She was heavenly. Éponine hated her.

Loved her. Whatever. It was a fine line.

“What did you guys decide when the three of you talked about it?” she asked Musichetta, trying to get back to the subject at hand, which was how it was  _not supposed to be okay for Cosette to kiss people that weren’t Éponine._

“We decided that we’re still sticking with romantic polyfidelity,” said Musichetta, articulating the last word carefully. “And generally speaking, any sexual activity outside our triad has to be cleared ahead of time with the  other two. But we carved out an exception for everybody in the ABC, since you’re basically family.”

Cosette pulled a face. “I'm flattered, but I really don’t think that’s the word you want to use,” she said.

Éponine had to agree, especially given that the most prominent “basically family” person in Cosette’s life was a pious white-bearded father figure pushing seventy, and everyone Éponine considered family was legally a minor.

“You know what I mean,” said Musichetta, rolling her eyes. “You guys are honorary inductees into our constellation, okay?” She reached out and pulled Éponine and Cosette into her arms. “Because we love you.”

“Thanks,” said Éponine, genuinely touched. As much as she craved affection, it still surprised her when people actually offered it.

Cosette snuggled wordlessly into Musichetta’s embrace, then froze and blurted out, “Wait, so you’re saying we could have sex right now, and they’d be fine with it?”

Musichetta threw back her head and laughed. “As long as I told them all about it later!”

“Ohmygod,” said Cosette breathlessly. “We should totally do that. Can we do that? Would you guys be into that? Chetta, you like girls too, right?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever fallen for one, but kissing and touching women is enjoyable,” said Musichetta in a thoughtful tone. “Jury’s still out on whether that’s the same thing as being attracted to them.”

“That works,” said Cosette. “Éponine, are you a having-sex-with-friends kind of person? Because honestly I’ve never done it myself but I’ve been kind of curious for a while now and I think it would be okay? And be pretty fun? Because I trust you guys? And obviously there’s no pressure it’s just an idea ––” She was talking faster and faster, her voice getting higher and higher in obvious nervousness.

“Uh,” said Éponine. Cosette’s mouth snapped shut, and she met Éponine’s eyes with a wide, imploring stare. “I’ve had casual sex with friends before. Well,  _a_ friend.” Admittedly that had been more of a hate sex thing, but Montparnasse could count as a friend for the purposes of this conversation. “It was fine.”

Cosette was still turning the full force of her blue eyes on Éponine, who was uncomfortably aware that she had avoided answering Cosette’s most important question.

“I’d be into it,” Éponine said with forced casualness. “Not something I’ve ever thought about before,” technically true, whenever she imagined sex with Cosette, Musichetta was not involved, “but I’m not opposed to the idea.”

“Ohmy _god_ ,” said Cosette again. She let out a huge breath Éponine hadn’t noticed her holding. “Okay, we are so doing this. Chetta, can I, like, kiss you for real?”

“I dunno,” said Musichetta in a sing-song voice. “Doesn’t seem fair to Éponine, does it?”

“Ohmygod, you are  _so right_ ,” said Cosette with feeling. She scootched away from Musichetta on the couch and made a  _get going_  gesture at Éponine. “Definitely you should fix that.”

Kissing Musichetta was strangely exhilarating. Éponine had expected it to feel as mundane as brushing her teeth, or worse, like trying to make out with a cousin; instead, she found that not being particularly fussed about the person kissing her invited a heightened concentration on the physical act of kissing. There was less of that instinctual drive to be as close as possible to the object of your affection, and in its place was a simple desire to explore and enjoy sensation. Soon she’d figured out that Musichetta liked her lower lip sucked, but was indifferent to the same treatment of her upper lip. Éponine wonder if that sort of detail had ever something she’d paid so much conscious attention to. She hadn’t known kissing could be like this, and for a while she gave herself over to it.

She was busy trying to figure out the merits of tongue-over-tongue versus tongue-under-tongue when she felt a hand on her arm and pulled back.

“That was really, really hot,” said Cosette, her eyes a little glassy, “but I think there’s a new imbalance now.”

Cosette leaned in and cupped Musichetta around the back of her neck, fitting their mouths together, and that was a whole new kind of fascinating. Éponine felt the expected surge of jealousy, of course, but knowing that  _she_ was going to have  _sex_  with  _Cosette_ in the immediate future put a very different spin on things. She could appreciate how beautiful the two of them were together, Cosette’s milk-pale skin even whiter against Musichetta’s rich terra cotta shade. She could especially appreciate the fact that when she leaned close to whisper into Cosette’s ear, “Suck on her bottom lip, she likes that,” Cosette  _actually did it._

Éponine was too consumed with nerves to interrupt as Cosette had, so this time it was Musichetta who pulled away. “Cosette,” she said in a low, amused voice, “Is there a combination you're forgetting?”

“Right,” said Cosette, sucking a breath. “Éponine, come here?”

Éponine had always pictured her first kiss with Cosette as something dramatic, romantic, lifechanging. She definitely had not pictured it involving climbing into Musichetta’s lap. Yet here she was, clambering over the couch cushions to settle in between the two of them. And wonder of wonders, having Musichetta’s arms wrapped firmly around her waist was steadying her, giving her the courage to look Cosette in the face and search her expression for any kind of reluctance.

Cosette did pause before leaning in, and Éponine noted – maybe not  _reluctance_ , exactly, but certainly some measure of apprehension. Whatever it was, though, it was clearly warring with excitement, which was lighting Cosette’s eyes as though from within.

Then Cosette darted forward to kiss her, and Éponine imagined she could feel that excitement arcing into her like electric current.

This was decidedly  _not_  like kissing Musichetta. The feeling of Cosette’s slick, already-swollen lips against hers had shut down Éponine’s prefrontal cortex and she was running on instinct alone, the fluttery impulse to clutch Cosette close and drink her in. Cosette moaned a little and Éponine couldn’t even remember what she’d done to elicit such a reaction, so lost was she in the kiss. She tried her best to replicate whatever it was, but it was impossible to be methodical about kissing Cosette when she was so swept up in the undertow of Cosette’s mouth.

Then Cosette was detaching said mouth from Éponine’s and only Musichetta’s anchoring grip on Éponine’s waist kept Éponine from following Cosette out like the receding tide.

“Can I?” asked Cosette breathlessly.

Could she what? Éponine mentally shook herself, resurfacing slowly, to realize Cosette’s hands were hovering at her breasts.

“Y-yes,” Éponine stuttered.

Cosette’s answering smile was white teeth and glee, fantastically eager, like she couldn’t believe her luck. She ducked her head for one more lingering peck to Éponine’s lips as her hands reached for Éponine’s flannel shirt, making quick work of the buttons. Éponine had been expecting to perhaps be groped  _through_ her flannel, but it seemed Cosette was – yes, peeling down the top of Éponine’s camisole to put her hands right on Éponine’s skin.

Éponine gasped at the touch. She’d always tried her best to not care about the size of her own breasts, but between Cosette’s proportional plumpness and Musichetta’s melon-sized mounds it was hard not to feel underdeveloped. Cosette didn’t seem at all put off, though.

“Chetta,” said Cosette, not lifting her eyes from Éponine’s front, “you have to feel these, they’re so soft!” She pulled and squeezed enthusiastically, making the most of the fact that she could cover the entirety of one breast with a single hand.

At Éponine’s back, Musichetta leaned forward, letting her hands sneak up Éponine’s sides. “This okay?” she murmured into Éponine’s ear.

“Yeah,” Éponine breathed back.

Musichetta’s touch tickled a bit as her hands slid steadily upward to meet Cosette’s. Then Éponine had four hands massaging and stroking her, which was almost too good for words. Musichetta began to kiss her at the base of her neck, and that seemed to inspire Cosette, who in turn started mouthing the thin, sensitive skin under Éponine’s jaw. Éponine’s eyes rolled back into her head as Cosette’s fingers finally zeroed in on her nipples, rolling and pinching, transporting Éponine to a higher plane of existence. She could feel herself growing hot and wet between her legs, desperate for something to fill her up. Without conscious intent, she spread her knees apart, begging silently for relief.

Cosette, unfortunately, misinterpreted Éponine’s squirming as discomfort. “Here, move to the side a little,” she said helpfully, manhandling Éponine off Musichetta’s lap so Éponine had her back to the couch cushions instead of Musichetta. Éponine watched with frustration as Cosette, still with a hand attached to one of Éponine’s bared breasts, leaned past Éponine to cup Musichetta’s face and kiss her again. 

Éponine tried to see the situation not as a person with an interest in Cosette, but as a person with an interest in fairness. It took effort. But she grudgingly acknowledged that it was probably not good threesome etiquette for the first participant to focus on the second to the exclusion of the third.

However. Just because Cosette was shifting focus to Musichetta didn’t mean Éponine had to do the same. Cosette’s hands on her body had emboldened Éponine – maybe not enough to ask for what she  _really_  wanted, but certainly enough to knock a few things off her wish list. As Cosette leaned in to Musichetta, Éponine tugged meaningfully at the hem of Cosette’s shirt. Cosette looked down, then at Éponine.

“It’s only fair,” said Éponine, gesturing at her own toplessness and raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Cosette laughed, then scooted back to pull off her shirt. Éponine tried not to stare as miles of soft, creamy skin came into view, then realized: this wasn’t the locker room at the gym, this was  _sex._  Cosette was taking off her top  _for Éponine_ ; Éponine was practically  _obligated_ to stare.

So she looked her fill. But she didn’t stop there: she actually put out a hand and touched Cosette, right where Cosette’s nipple was raising an almost-imperceptible bump in the fabric of her bra.

“ _Ah_ ,” said Cosette. “Let me get that.” Before Éponine could blink twice, Cosette had dispensed with her bra as well, and Éponine had a handful of breast that, while admittedly not quite as soft as Éponine’s own, was more than soft enough to have Éponine vividly imagining what nice pillows they would make. She squeezed once, experimentally, and Cosette’s mouth opened in a silent, pleased gasp.

Éponine had a sudden burst of inspiration.

“Let me sit behind you,” she said to Cosette.

“Wouldn’t it be better if we stay all facing each other?” said Cosette, looking anxiously at Musichetta. “We’re supposed to all participate equally, right?” 

“Actually, no,” Musichetta supplied. “Trust me, there is no rule that says everybody in a given sexual encounter has to participate equally. It’s just about what works best for all involved, not about an abstract notion of fairness. Like, ‘take off your top so we’re even’ makes for great quips to get the ball rolling, I say shit like that all the time, but as an approach to sex more generally it’s not a reliable metric. If Éponine wants to touch you from behind and you want to be touched from behind, you’re both getting what you want, and that’s more than fair, that’s ideal. Believe me, I should know.”

“Sorry, you’re right, of course,” said Cosette, running a hand over her forehead. “I was just...”

“I know, hon. You’re fine, don’t worry.” Musichetta busied herself with removing her own top layers.

Éponine, meanwhile, got up from the couch and resettled herself with her back to the arm, slotting into position behind Cosette, who shivered deliciously when Éponine’s hard nipples pressed up against her back. “I think she’s right,” Éponine told Cosette in a low voice, wrapping her arms around Cosette’s waist in the same comforting hold Musichetta had used on Éponine earlier. “But I also think that whole speech was way too coherent. I think you need to mess her up a bit more... take her apart.”

“And what will you do?” Cosette whispered back, eyes still riveted on the glorious sight of Musichetta’s breasts springing free of their trappings.

“Take  _you_  apart, obviously,” Éponine said, a solemn promise. Cosette’s breath hitched at Éponine’s words and she arched back – just slightly – into Éponine’s arms. Éponine didn’t know that she’d ever felt happier than she did in this moment.

“Go on,” she said, a little louder this time. “I think she’ s ready.”

Musichetta indeed looked ready. Her blouse, undershirt, and bra were all laid neatly over the far arm of the couch, and she was in the process of sliding her panties out from under her skirt.

Cosette gulped.

Éponine hugged her tighter, pressing a kiss to the back of Cosette’s shoulder. Cosette took a deep breath and reached forward. Her hands were far too small for the task of corralling both of Musichetta's breasts – Éponine would never look at Bossuet’s wide palms or Joly’s long fingers the same way ever again – but Cosette appeared undeterred.

Musichetta leaned into her touch, kissing Cosette deeply, and added her own hands to the effort, lifting up her breasts to give Cosette better access. The soft sound of skin on skin, lips on lips, tongue on tongue was a more pleasant soundtrack than anything Éponine could bring to mind, especially for what she was about to do.

She ran her hands up Cosette’s sides, taking as much of Cosette’s breasts as she could fit in each hand. Rather than focus on massaging them as Cosette had done, Éponine went straight for Cosette’s nipples, positioned high on each breast and pebbled into hard pink nubs. Éponine steadied each nipple with a forefinger so she could brush past each repeatedly with her thumbs, a teasing, torturous technique that never failed to drive Éponine herself crazy. She could even feel herself getting wetter and looser down below, solely in an empathic reaction to what she imagined Cosette had to be feeling.

It was quickly obvious that Cosette, while perhaps not so sensitive as Éponine, was nonetheless turned on by this approach, writhing in pleasure against Éponine as she whined shamelessly into Musichetta’s kiss. Éponine nibbled at Cosette’s shoulder and neck, her ears alert for the slightest noises of pleasure or pain. She was no longer looking at a heavenly creature, she was  _in_ heaven. Fuck, how was she ever going to get over this? 

Best not think about that now. Not with Cosette’s pulse racing under her palms, not with Cosette quivering like a leaf in her arms.

Then Cosette cried out, and tried to do two things at once: she grabbed Éponine’s hand to move it from her breast to the waistband of her sweatpants, and she scrabbled with her other hand at Musichetta’s skirt.

“Please,” she panted, sagging back from Musichetta’s mouth, “oh please, fuck,  _please_  do it – please let me –”

Whatever she was trying feebly to say was preempted by Musichetta throwing back her skirt and guiding Cosette’s hand between her legs. A mix of expletives, praise, and encouragement poured from Musichetta’s lips as Cosette made use of her newly granted access. Not wanting to distract her, Éponine merely curved her own hand just below Cosette’s public bone, a still and steady pressure.

It was impossible to ignore Cosette’s invitation for more than a very generous moment, though. Still groping Cosette with her upper hand, Éponine sent her other hand under and down, feeling her way past the elastic of Cosette’s underwear and her thatch of pubic hair to an area so slippery, Éponine’s middle finger actually slid a few centimeters inside before she could even decide whether or not it was her intention. Cosette’s answering gasp suggested she was in favor.

It was a horrible angle for any kind of penetration other than from below, so Éponine kept to shallow exploration, spreading Cosette’s lower lips with her fore and middle fingers, rubbing gently to acclimate Cosette to her touch. Cosette did not seem to need any time at all to acclimate: no sooner had Éponine made one full circuit of Cosette’s entrance than Cosette tilted her pelvis forward insistently, trying to bring Éponine’s hand in contact with her clit.

Éponine refused to take the hint, however; she merely moved her hand lower and kept running her now-soaked fingertips over Cosette’s folds, instantly hooked on the feeling of a needy, squirmy Cosette dancing to her tune.

“Was there something you wanted?” she purred in Cosette’s ear. Oh, this was too good, too good to be allowed; Cosette was a piece of heaven, yes, but Éponine was the devil, desperate to be the one to tempt her, to devour her.

Cosette and Musichetta weren’t exactly kissing anymore, just pressing their foreheads together and breathing each other’s air. Musichetta had one hand braced against the back of the couch while the other was busy on her own clit; Cosette’s hand was under her, fingers curling up inside to rub as methodically as Cosette could manage while being touched herself. 

Éponine noted with no little pride that this was not very methodically at all; Cosette’s movements seemed to have slowed to weak, vaguely circular motions as Éponine had picked up her pace.

Musichetta didn’t seem to mind, though; she was busily thrusting against Cosette’s hand, mouth slack with pleasure. She barely seemed to notice when Cosette moved her head back to let it rest on Éponine’s shoulder.

“Please,” said Cosette. “Ohmygod, please touch me? I feel like –  _ah_ –” Éponine had let her middle finger enter Cosette, curled it up and in, just a little, “like I’m gonna go off as soon as you touch my, my clit – ahh,  _please_  –”

“Is that what you want?” asked Éponine, letting the pad of her middle finger rub the edge of Cosette’s entrance as her fore and ring fingers spread Cosette open. Cosette made a desperate noise. For her own part Éponine wouldn't have wanted to come from only a few touches to her clit, but Cosette had said it like it was a good thing.

“Yes,” whined Cosette. “Yesyesyesyes.” She was thrusting her hips a bit now, trying to jostle Éponine into place. Éponine had half a mind to deny her just to be contrary, but then Cosette panted, “Please,  _Ep_ ,” and Éponine’s heart stuttered. It was just a stupid nickname, just two goddamn letters, but everyone else called her  _Ep_  four times out of five, everyone except for Cosette. It shouldn’t have mattered, but Cosette's inexplicable insistence on using Éponine's full name had always made her feel like there was some kind of weird, formal wall between them, something that made them not quite proper friends. 

At this point, though, she’d have to hope against hope Cosette never took to calling her  _Ep_  in everyday life, because it would inescapably bring Éponine back to right now, Cosette begging Éponine to make her come.

“Anything for you,” Éponine said, sex-drunk and honest with it. She moved her hand.

Cosette was still obscenely wet, making it hard to find purchase, but Éponine braced her outer fingers against Cosette’s pubic bone and went for broke, rubbing circles into Cosette’s clit as hard as she dared. Cosette cried out and curled forward, and apparently curled the fingers she had inside Musichetta as well, because Musichetta let out a cry of her own and they fell into each other.

“Yes – there – hold it there,” Musichetta demanded. “Oh,  _fuck_ ,” and she leaned into the crook of Cosette’s neck, now clutching to Cosette’s shoulder instead of the couch, keeping Cosette’s hand in place so she could fuck herself on Cosette’s fingers.

Cosette’s other hand had still been aimlessly caressing one of Musichetta’s breasts, but now she brought it up to bury it in Musichetta’s curls, clutching Musichetta to her as if she was afraid the two of them were going to fall apart.

 _That was the plan_ , thought Éponine, setting her jaw. She upped the pressure on the clit under her fingers, simultaneously pinching viciously at Cosette’s nipple, and was immensely satisfied when Cosette bit back a whine that was almost a scream.

Éponine’s arm wrapped across Cosette’s torso to find her neglected other breast, then dipped her middle finger down again to wet it at Cosette’s entrance. And then she was back to Cosette’s clit, bracing herself between the couch and floor with her legs so that she could hold the position however long it would take to make Cosette come. 

As it turned out, not long. Musichetta, who had been touching herself the longest and had the advantage of knowing her own body, came first, letting out a loud, sensual sigh as she finally hit her peak. Cosette, who had to be feeling the clench of Musichetta around her fingers, followed immediately after, bucking and writhing in Éponine’s arms like a thing possessed.

Éponine tried desperately to press the moment into her mind, preserve it, but she knew that, like a flower slipped between the pages of a book, her memories would always be flatter and less vibrant than the flesh-and-blood miracle she held in her arms.

Musichetta collapsed sideways into the couch cushions, humming her satisfaction. “Fuck, that was nice,” she said after a long moment, eyes still closed. “Cosette, honey, I’m good. Take back your hand before you start to prune.”

"Got it,”said Cosette. She retracted her hand and wiped it thoughtlessly on her own sweatpants. “You can keep going if you want to,” she told Éponine in a hopeful voice.

“Uh,” said Éponine.

She  _was_ intellectually aware that some women could orgasm multiple times in a session, it just... wasn’t information that usually applied to her life. So every time she was reintroduced to the practical reality of the concept, she had to readjust. She wasn’t stroking Cosette anymore, just lightly cupping her between her legs and on her breast, not wanting to ruin any more of the afterglow than she absolutely had to. 

“Chetta?” Éponine said, stalling for time.

Musichetta fumbled through the pocket of her discarded sweatshirt and fished out her phone to look at the time. “As fun as this has been, I was planning to leave partway through the episode we didn’t watch – I kind of need to get home.”

“Oh,” said Éponine dumbly. Musichetta was gathering up her things. Did that mean she was leaving Éponine alone with Cosette? 

Did that mean she was leaving Éponine alone with a  _horny_ ,  _half-naked Cosette?_

Éponine began taking deep, steadying breaths. It was amazing that after all this, she could still be terrified of her crush. She hadn’t really wanted her first time with Cosette to be a friendly threesome, but she’d been willing to take what she could get. She wasn’t sure she was ready to settle for her first time  _alone_  with Cosette being even  _more_  casual sex. 

“Bummer,” she said. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, thin and nasally. Mechanically she disentangled herself from Cosette and pulled on her discarded camisole. “Let me walk you out.”

It was Éponine’s shitty apartment, so she was technically the one with hostess duties, but of course Cosette jumped up to walk Musichetta out too, throwing on her t-shirt without bothering with her bra. 

“Thanks so much for this, and for your advice,” she gushed to Musichetta at the door. “This was so much fun, it was pretty much everything I could’ve hoped for. Tell Joly and Boss I think they're some of the luckiest men alive.”

“No problem. The pleasure was mine. Can’t wait to see what the boys say,” said Musichetta, waggling her eyebrows. “Hope you guys can put up with a few knowing looks at the next meeting.”

Like Éponine didn’t already get enough of those from Grantaire. Takes one to know one, and all that. “We can handle it.”

“One for the road?” Musichetta added, smiling, and one after the other she pulled them both in for one more kiss. It felt nice – Éponine would gladly make out with her again if given the chance – but really all it did was further drive home the fact that Cosette was the one she really wanted.

Then Musichetta was gone, and Éponine and Cosette were alone.

Together.

_Oh god._

Cosette was twisting her hands now, looking up at Éponine shyly through her eyelashes. It just wasn’t fair. How could someone be so wanton one minute, so maidenly and demure the next?

“So,” said Éponine.

“So,” said Cosette.

They stared at each other.

“I had a lot of fun,” said Éponine desperately, right as Cosette blurted, “I want to give you an orgasm.”

There was a pause.

“Sorry, run that by me again?” said Éponine.

“I want to give you an orgasm?” said Cosette, more hesitant now. “You didn’t get to come. It doesn’t seem fair.”

Fairness. Éponine didn’t want a  _fairness_ orgasm. She wanted a  _hey-you’re-sexy-and-I-think-we-should-date_  orgasm. 

“We talked about this, remember?” she said, swallowing her frustration. “It’s not about making sure everybody gets the same amount of everything. It’s about whether you take into account all the, you know, different stuff people want.”

“Okay, yeah, but,” said Cosette, a little defensively. “Are you saying you  _don’t want_ to orgasm?”

“First off, I take forever to come, and I hate feeling like I’m being pressured into it for the sake of  _somebody else’s_  sense of accomplishment,” said Éponine, unable to totally suppress the hint of bitterness in her voice. “Secondly, maybe I don’t want your pity sex.”

Oh, that was definitely Cosette’s offended face. Éponine had fucked this up good and right.

Cosette opened her mouth to speak, but Éponine cut her off. “Okay, sorry, that came out wrong,” she said. “Let me explain.”

There was only one way out of this, and it was going to hurt like hell.

Cosette closed her mouth, sucking on her lip. Her mouth was swollen with kisses. Éponine wanted to bite it. She shook her head, furious with herself for being so pathetic.

“If you’re going to be giving me an orgasm,” she said, fixing her eyes on her well-worn doormat, “if you, Cosette Fauchelevent, are giving me an orgasm, I want it to be because you want to give me, Éponine Thenardier, an orgasm. Not because it’s ‘fair’ or because it might be ‘cool to try’ or because it’s a ‘learning experience’ or whatever. Okay?” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t even want you to do it because you think I’m attractive! I want it to, to be, s-something that  _you_  personally want to do with  _me_  personally, because of who I am to you and who you are to me.”

Éponine raised her head, inch by nervewracking inch. Cosette’s eyes were very wide and very blue.

“D-does that make sense?” Éponine said in a tiny voice.

“Yes,” said Cosette immediately. “Yes, Éponine, oh my god, of course.”

Éponine looked away. “Is, uh. Is that still something you’d be interested in?”

“Maybe, um. Maybe not tonight?” said Cosette. Her voice had gone very high-pitched. Éponine chanced a glance in Cosette’s direction; she was staring at the ceiling, clutching the hair at the back of her head. “Maybe we could hang out some other time?”

“Hang out,” Éponine repeated. They hung out all the time. They were hanging out right now.

“Like a date?” 

“Are you serious?” said Éponine breathlessly. “Cosette, are you –”

“Not  _like_  a date. Actually a date. A for real date,” babbled Cosette, her eyes squeezed shut. “Do you want to go on a –”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Éponine, with feeling. 

Cosette opened her eyes, and then they were standing face to face, grinning like idiots. “Okay, good,” squeaked Cosette. “That’s good.”

The two of them gathered Cosette’s things from the living room, not saying a word. Éponine was beaming so brightly she thought her face might break, but she was slightly terrified that if she said anything to shatter the silence she would shatter this fragile promise too.

Once they were at the door again, though, she found her voice. 

“One more for the road?” she said, barely able to talk through her smile.

“It’s only fair,” said Cosette, and they both giggled like schoolgirls for a moment. Then Éponine reached out and took Cosette’s face in her hand, gathering Cosette into her kiss.

This kiss was short, close-mouthed, simple, and yet somehow so much sweeter than any they’d yet shared.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Postscripts:
> 
>   * Musichetta was completely oblivious to the Éposette dynamic but takes credit for getting them together anyway. Éponine and Cosette don’t protest.
>   * They live happily ever after.
>   * Eponine’s doormat says FRIENDS WELCOME, FAMILY BY APPOINTMENT.
> Rebloggable version available [here](https://les-amis-de-nsfw.tumblr.com/post/163396498352/we-talked-about-this) on my NSFW Les Mis sideblog, [@les-amis-de-nsfw](https://les-amis-de-nsfw.tumblr.com/).



End file.
